


Season Pass

by one_irradiated_muppet



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Comedy, Fluff, Gen, M/M, art added to fic, just a nice day out really
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-30
Updated: 2018-03-30
Packaged: 2019-04-16 00:41:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14152917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/one_irradiated_muppet/pseuds/one_irradiated_muppet
Summary: Theme Park Hijinks.[UPDATED] Art now accompanies the final scene!





	Season Pass

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to the lovely Silly ([ao3](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scrunchles/)) for betaing for me! Just a little bit of fun, this one.
> 
> And thank you to the wonderful Blue-Blossom, who sketched the art which accompanies the final scene for me as part of my subscription to her Patreon! She's an amazing and generous artist, and you can find her art at [tumblr](https://blue-blossom.tumblr.com/)!

“Here Roadie, check this out!”

Junkrat was sat on the hallway floor, tearing his way - quite literally - through the heap of letters on the doormat. Roadhog was in the kitchen looting the cupboards for anything and everything they could eat there or take with them on the road; they weren’t wanting for funds after their last heist but he wanted to lay as low as possible until the heat wore off, and that meant no shopping. He tossed the final tin of baked beans he was holding into the stockpile he’d amassed and trundled into the hall.

Junkrat was holding two laminate cards up as he hunched over the letter that had accompanied them. Roadhog gently tugged them from his grip to turn them over in his hands, where they looked comically small.

“Wossa’... ‘platinum season pass’?”

“Special tickets for a theme park. For VIPs - Very Important People.”

Junkrat looked back over his shoulder, his lips forming an ‘o’ as his interest was piqued.

“ _We’re_ very important people.”

Roadhog chuckled from deep in his chest and nodded; as much as he rambled and misunderstood everyday things, Junkrat’s interpretations cut straight to the heart of the things that mattered.

“So, what’s a theme park then?”

Rather than having to explain, Roadhog pointed to the brochure which had fallen at Junkrat’s feet. He snatched it up and unfolded it, eyes flitting back and forth wildly over the array of brightly coloured photos and drawings packed inside it.

“Bar.. Berk… Berkshire World of Adventures… Fuckin’ hell Hoggie, naff name but this place looks wild!” He exclaimed, jabbing a finger excitedly at the glossy pages. “The Whirl ‘n Hurl, Axe Grindr, Deathcoaster 3000… I don’t know what any of these are, but they sound hardcore! And look at all those people screamin’!”

Junkrat scooted around on his arse until he was facing Roadhog fully, and thrust the brochure aloft with a cackle.

“Look, they’ve even got Hog-sized teacups!! Whaddaya say, can we go? Can we? Can we?!”

 _So much for laying low_ , Roadhog mused as he gave a single nod of his head, eliciting howls of joy from Junkrat. He knew there would be no shutting him up now he’d found out about the park - nor did he especially want to; they both deserved a change of pace and a fun day out.

 

Junkrat just about laughed himself silly when the park staff insisted Roadhog go through the turnstiles at the entrance, and was doubled over, desperately clutching his thin waist by the time they relented a let the big guy through the alternate gate. A telling start to the day on all counts; the park seemed to be manned predominantly by inept, gangly teenagers, so despite their outlandish appearances Roadhog was confident they’d be able to enjoy themselves before anyone responsible showed up to call them in.

Roadhog’s pockets jingled healthily as they headed into the park, so when they came across the first of many food stalls he felt no hesitation in buying Junkrat everything he asked for (candy floss and a hot dog piled with mustard and crispy onions). Junkrat had his own share of their spoils of course - 50/50 as it happened - but Roadhog had convinced him to leave it at home and let him treat him for the day instead. Not only was he sure to lose half of it on the rides, but Roadhog was pleased to have the chance to indulge him; he wasn’t the kind of boyfriend who expected to be spoilt with gifts, so it was a rare opportunity.

Junkrat ate the candy floss first and the hotdog second, washing all of it down with a large soda which led to a hearty burp. He wasn’t too keen on the sweetness of the floss but was tickled by the way its texture changed in his mouth.

“Only one?” He commented on the single corndog Roadhog had picked to chow down on.

“Mmh,” Roadhog agreed. Even he was wise to start slow sometimes; he intended to eat from every vendor in the park before the day was up. After all, he had to do _something_ while Junkrat was trying out all the rides.

Their VIP passes meant Junkrat didn’t have to queue for them, so he was on the first one within minutes of polishing off his hotdog; luckily it appeared to be a fairly gentle one, a straight track which arched high into the air but didn’t loop or corkscrew. But when it set off with him alone in the front seat - for some reason none of the other riders felt inclined to share it with him - it went from 0-80mph in seconds and left Roadhog howling as Junkrat’s scream trailed off into the distance. When the carriage arrived back in the station mere moments later, Junkrat looked as shell-shocked as Roadhog had ever seen him, mouth agape and shoulders slumped as though his skeleton had been left behind at the top of the ride. Then he shook himself and immediately ran around for another go.

Within the first hour Junkrat had ridden 4 of the park’s most break-neck coasters multiple times each, and Roadhog had sampled the specialities of just as many food stalls. The first area of the park completed, they made their way through the kiddie section in search of more thrills…

“Roadie look! It’s those teacups!”

Unfortunately while Junkrat had joked that the teacups were ‘Hog-sized’, they were, in fact, very much not; it was starting to look like there wouldn’t be a single attraction he could fit on, but that suited Roadhog just fine. Junkrat insisted that he at least have a go so that he could tell Roadhog what the teacups were like - much to the dismay of the parents accompanying their children onto the ride.

“Hog I… I don’t feel so good. Think ‘m gunna chunder,” Junkrat mumbled after he’d stumbled off the ride, and Roadhog rubbed his back sympathetically as he emptied the contents of his stomach into some nearby bushes. Loop-de-loops and corkscrews yes, spinning _no_ , he noted for the future.

15 minutes later, Junkrat was polishing off a bag of freshly fried mini donuts and eyeing up the next coaster on his dogeared park map.

  
  
The first of the day’s ‘incidents’ happened when Junkrat discovered Roadhog enjoying a cone of chips smothered in ketchup, his eyes lighting up wickedly. Roadhog knew what that look meant - he’d witnessed it on many occasions before - but felt no inclination to dampen Junkrat’s fun today.

“Lend me some of that, will you?” Junkrat cooed, reaching up to disengage his prosthetic arm. Roadhog was savvy to his ways and was already moving the cone out of Junkrat’s reach as he attempted to shove his stump straight into the chips.

“I can do you one better - there’s a whole pump of it over there,” He said, gesturing behind him and Junkrat’s grin grew to spread from ear to ear.

  
  
“AUUGGHH ME ARM!! The ride’s had off me bloody _arm_!!”

Junkrat barged through the queue for the Deathcoaster 3000, flailing his ‘bloody’ arm wildly to coat those nearest with splatters of thick red ketchup. A cacophony of gasps and screams rose up from children and parents alike, the crowd suddenly surging as people fought to get as far away from him as possible. Junkrat grabbed onto the shirt of the the stunned ride attendant, a particularly pimply teen whose pasty complexion rapidly drained further at being assaulted.

“Look!” Junkrat screamed, shoving his stump into the kid’s horrified face. “I’ll never play the banjo _again_!”

With a whimper, the attendant passed out cold.

Roadhog couldn’t remember the last time he’d laughed so hard, doubled over on the bench he’d viewed the spectacle from and wheezing helplessly behind his mask. When he regained his composure enough to lift his head it was to find Junkrat licking the ketchup off his stump and making eyes at only the park-goers brave - or stupid - enough to remain in his vicinity. Roadhog also caught sight of the ride operator speaking frantically into a walkie-talkie inside his booth; sighing out the last of his laughter, Roadhog drug himself to stand, lifting his mask enough to wipe his streaming eyes and heading over to his partner.

“C’mon smartass, time to shift it.” He jabbed a thumb at the booth before hooking a finger into Junkrat’s harness to drag him away.

  
  
They ended up hiding out in a horror maze based on some washed-up movie franchise, wherein they spent more time scaring the actors than being spooked themselves. As they exited through the gift shop, Junkrat had the _actually decent_ idea of donning some souvenirs as disguises. And so it was that they stepped out in an assortment of sunglasses, baseball caps and hawaiian shirts, all emblazoned with a mixture of the attraction’s skull logo and artsy blood splatters. They’d even had Roadhog’s size (or close enough) and he’d put Junkrat’s hair up in a ponytail so that it stuck out the back of his hat. He thought it looked damn cute.

“Doubt these alone will buy us much time, so let’s split up,” he said, digging a handful of cash out of his pocket and holding it out to Junkrat. “Here - go play some games or something. If things get hairy, meet me at the exit.”

Junkrat, it turned out, was rather good at skeeball. So much so that he’d won himself an armful of soft toys and novelty goods by the time he came across the stall which would spell the end of their day out - but by God, it would be worth it. His hoard of treasures tumbled to the ground as he laid eyes on the _ultimate_ prize, hanging in rows above a shooting range and smiling down at him adorably. Junkrat marched over, throwing all the money he had down on the counter of the booth and waving up at them.

“How much?!”

The game attendant eyed up the pile of coins and notes laid out in front of him, before smirking and crossing his arms.

“Nah mate, you gotta win one. Three goes for a fiv - sorry, _tenner_. Shoot down as many targets as you can.”

Junkrat yanked one of the air pistols out of its holster on the counter, squinting at the rows of targets as they began to cycle back and forth. Unfortunately his aim, unlike his hand-eye-coordination, was not on point; he spent a quick £50 before he’d even landed a shot on a target. And despite the clear hit, it _didn’t even fall down_. He wrinkled his nose in a snarl of annoyance and turned on the attendant.

“This game’s fuckin’ rigged!” He spat, jabbing a finger in the man’s face. The attendant was the first person not to quail under his approach, however, even having the audacity - and misplaced judgement - to laugh in his face!

“Not my fault yer shit mate! C’mon, you got enough dough there for another twenty goes at least. Maybe if you get close I’ll even take pity on ya.”

Practically trembling with rage, Junkrat let out a sinister laugh of his own and reached into his back pocket for the mine he’d stashed there.

“Well ain’t that mighty generous of you. But how’s about we try something a lil’ different?”

  
  
Roadhog was daintily dipping a churro into melted chocolate when the explosion rocked the park’s foundations. While the patrons around him screamed and ran he merely let out a long-suffering - but unsurprised - sigh and heaved himself off of his stool.

What _did_ surprise him was the thing which rapidly approached from the direction of the explosion; a massive Pachimari, bigger than he’d ever seen - so big in fact, that it wasn’t until it passed that he realised that Junkrat was the one carrying it, his arms barely stretching around its bulbous body.

“Roadie, look what I got you! Ain’t she a beaut?!” Junkrat jogged on the spot for a moment, back arched with the effort of holding the Pachi up. He’d lost his cap somewhere along the way, and his hair was freshly alight, falling out of its ponytail. Then he was racing off again, howling with laughter and trailing smoke behind him.

“Cops’ll be here soon, fuckin’ leg it!!”

Roadhog stood, mouth agape behind his mask and churros spilling to the floor as he watched his boyfriend high-tail it away.

Fuck he loved him.

  
  
It took some effort to move the guest bed into the master bedroom, but once it had been squeezed in beside the king size there was more than enough room for all three of them to lay comfortably side by side. Roadhog had never met anyone or anything he could really, truly wrap his arms around before, and as he laid there with his nose pressed into the soft fuzz of the Pachimari, listening to Junkrat’s peaceful snores from across its squishy body, he decided he was the happiest he’d ever been.

 


End file.
